


Standing Still

by literaryspell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryspell/pseuds/literaryspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lupin discovers Snape alone after an Order meeting, and the two men find in each other a desperate companionship they didn't even know they were missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Still

Snape knew what it was to be alone. To have people moving around you, flickering in and out like fireflies in the cool, midnight air, while you stand still and steady, waiting for something intangible and wondering if one of those fireflies will ever stop flittering long enough to hold on to.

He had taken to pondering life in such a manner when paying attention to the Order meetings was no longer a viable option. And the truth of it was, it was easier to view people as insects, as glowing pests destined to fade in the morning light; that way, when they did fade, it was easier to act like nothing happened. His mask had never failed him, and he never intended for it to. Impassive, hardened under even the most brutal onslaughts of mental invasion, Snape sat in one of the chairs at the long table of number twelve Grimmauld Place and watched his surroundings flicker and fade.

Finally, he was the last one there.

Sighing in a release of emotion that he only permitted when absolutely alone, Snape sat immobile at the table for perhaps an hour, perhaps two, wondering when his body would remind him that the dungeons were waiting, and that he must return home at some point. It wasn’t that he wanted to stay here in this tomb, this monument to darkness and evil, sadness and despair. He just didn’t know how to move anymore. He was so very tired.

 

Remus Lupin bounded as quietly as one can bound down the stairs. He had tried to go to sleep when the other Order members had retired, but failed miserably as he was usually wont to do at such a mission. He only wanted a warm glass of milk, maybe a cup of tea. Maybe, if he were honest with himself, and Lupin usually was, a small glass of Firewhisky. In the kitchen he poured himself the latter and sniffed appreciatively, his senses heightened by the nearness of the full moon. The Firewhisky tasted like bad intentions. He moved slowly, ever quiet by instinct if not purpose, into the dining room where the meeting had taken place hours before.

He bristled, his hackles up, but did not pause his step when his eyes lit upon Severus Snape, sitting deathly still at the table, his hands folded neatly on the table top, staring intently at the wall on the other side of the table. Lupin drew a long breath through his nostrils, and they flared when he smelled the other man’s sadness and perhaps a little fear. So Snape knew he was there, then; the fear Snape emitted when Lupin was close by had never dissipated over the years, frustrating Lupin beyond reason as he saw himself as a most peaceful man. With the Wolfsbane potion that this very man brewed for him, Lupin was little more than a man in a wolf’s body when the moon became roundest. There was no slavering beast beneath the surface, no wildness or feral growls waiting to be released. He was similar to an Animagus, except his transformation was still bone-crunchingly painful and completely unintentional.

The pungent odor of fear aside, Lupin took a seat directly next to Snape. Still, the other man did not move. Still holding the firewiskey, Lupin topped off his glass and pushed it in front of his silent associate. Snape looked a little started to see and hear the glass slide before him. So maybe the fear was unrelated to my presence, Lupin thought pensively.

Snape eyed the new arrival thoughtfully. Lupin was probably one of the only Order members Snape could bear to be around. Though far from declaring each other best friends, the two had developed a wary rapport, working together for the same goal. Snape tossed the drink back, schooling his features not to flinch at the inferior spirits, and pushed the glass back to Lupin.

“I’m surprised to see you here so late.” Lupin’s comments were met with silence and he plunged on. “You’re usually one of the first to leave, are you not?”

Snape only lifted a brow in response and watched Lupin sip the drink with relish. His throat worked to swallow, and Snape’s eyes moved of their own accord to follow the convulsive movement. The werewolf was dressed in tattered clothing, even more so than usual, Snape believed. The collar of his shirt was worn and the seams were frayed with thread loosening and sticking out. The cuffs of the shirt, which may once have been a deep brown and now were no real colour at all, were slightly lighter than the rest of the garment, more worn and hung too far over Lupin’s wrists, nearly covering his work- or maybe just life- roughened hands to the second knuckle.

Lupin’s eyes caught his as he continued his appraisal of the first man’s attire. He smiled crookedly and said, “Well, it’s not cashmere—" here Snape only snorted, “—but it’s warm and comfortable.”

Though Snape may have looked incredulous at this self-deprecating admission, he inwardly thought of how nice it might be to have something warm and comfortable of his own. Blanking his face, he said only, “Indeed.”

Drink after drink was imbibed, the men exchanging only brief words that became less barbed on Snape’s part, and less self-effacing of Lupin’s. Finally, when Snape was certain he’d had enough, which in his world equated to too much, he stood, pushing his chair back rather noisily, but not wavering in the least, and announced his intention to depart.

But Snape did not move. He seemed on the brink of something, like he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure if he should, if he could. Lupin remained seated and fought with himself over whether to tell the darker man to sit back down, or let him leave and most likely forget all, little though it was, that had transpired. Before he made up his mind, his body moved without instruction.

He stood, his chair moving as silently as him. He turned to Snape, who was standing perfectly still, facing the same wall he had been all night. Lupin grasped Snape’s shoulder and turned him so they were facing each other. Snape obliged, but looked down, avoiding Lupin's gaze.

Silent as ever, Snape stood obligingly still as Lupin gazed upon him, indecisively. He took in Snape’s face while he was looking down. Though never accused of being attractive, Snape’s interesting features had long held a fascination with Lupin, especially those piercing black eyes, so cold, so deceptively shuttered. But now, Snape’s eyes were downcast and so Lupin considered his lips. Thin, and usually held tight as though there were so much he wanted to say and couldn’t, they were now slack, still closed and slightly downturned. Pink. Bottom lip slightly fuller, with a darker red mark just to the left of the centre as if Snape had bitten it. Lupin’s urge to bite that same spot flared, and just as he was going to taste him, Snape raised his eyes and held Lupin in his unbreakable gaze.

Topaz eyes searched black for permission, desire, anything. Seeing only consideration, Lupin leaned forward infinitesimally, not wanting to scare the darker man away by launching himself upon him. He stopped, and when Snape did not move away, eye contact not breaking, Lupin took this as the only permission he would ever get.

Lupin’s grasp tightened on Snape’s black-clad shoulder, and he drew the somewhat shorter man to him. Meeting him the rest of the way, Lupin’s lips pressed insistently to Snape’s for a moment, moving slightly and then pulling back. Snape had stiffened, but did not pull away as Lupin feared and expected he would. Snape licked his lips, tasting Lupin on himself and wondering what exactly was stopping him from jerking away, tossing Floo powder into the fireplace and calling out the name of the only place he had ever called home, the dungeons of Hogwarts, where he could be alone like he knew how. But the taste on his tongue was spicy, the lips had been soft, not forceful, and the hand on his shoulder was warm and comfortable.

Warm and comfortable.

Thinking only that, Snape’s lips sought out Lupin’s, which were hovering only inches away. His hands reached up to the werewolf’s collar, one resting on his neck with his thumb on Lupin’s jaw, the other seeking a hold in the tawny hair.

Lupin’s lips moved experimentally over Snape’s, desperately wanting to thrust his tongue beyond Snape’s barriers and delve unfettered into his warm mouth, but holding himself back, offering only light movements so as to not scare away his prize. Lupin’s own hands rested tentatively on Snape’s hips, neither pulling nor grabbing, holding himself in desperate check.

Finally Lupin could bear this light exploration no longer, and stepped forward, bringing his body to align with Snape’s, moving his hands to Snape’s back and caressing firmly, while his tongue licked gently against the seam of Snape’s mouth. It opened immediately and Lupin groaned at Snape’s acceptance. His tongue thrust gently into Snape’s mouth, moving experimentally against the slickness and warmth. Lupin took a moment to wonder that this mouth that knew only spite and spoke only pain, could be so gentle and soft. Tilting his head further, Lupin devoured Snape’s mouth, caressing his tongue and exploring his palate, flicking against his teeth. Snape’s own tongue sought refuge in Lupin’s mouth and he willingly allowed the intrusion, marveling that Snape was so…good. Lupin pulled away only minutely and licked along Snape’s lips, pulling the lower one into his mouth with gentle suction and worrying that small red bite mark with his tongue, before nipping it soundly and soothing it gently.

The men pulled apart from each other, and each regarded the other, Snape somewhat warily but with undeniably flushed cheeks, Lupin with a bright light in his eyes and a small smile that meant he knew a secret.

But Lupin had to know, because Snape had been holding himself a little tensely, moving his hands a little uncertainly: “Have you been with a man?” For a moment he was sure Snape would not answer; something in his eyes flared, but was pulled back almost instantly. He shook his head in denial mutely, and Lupin said, “Can I…show you?”

Snape took a moment to breathe and think about what was being offered. He did not like forming attachments; anything that the Dark Lord could hold over his head was dangerous, and not just to him. But the lonely part inside him, the selfish part was crying out for more touch, more warmth and Snape knew he was lost. This man was offering to show him how to be human, and it had been so long….

Snape asked, “Shall we go to my chambers? They are considerably more…private.” Snape’s dislike of the House of Black was notorious, and Lupin could not fault him for not wanting to retire to Lupin’s bedroom here where the furniture was in disrepair and they would surely be overheard or interrupted, one way or another. It was Lupin’s turn to silently nod, and he took Snape’s hand which neither shook him off nor closed around his fingers and led him to the Floo. With only the slightest of wavers in his voice, Snape announced their destination and stepped through.

Landing with only a semblance of grace on the other side, Lupin was now a little uncertain how to proceed. He had seen Snape’s chambers before to collect the Wolfsbane, though both preferred to meet in Snape’s office instead. “Maybe a drink?” he suggested quietly, his ardor cooling in the reality of what was about to happen, though desiring it no less.

Snape looked at him considering and nodded curtly, Accioing a crystal decanter and two glasses. He gestured to the sofa which was as austere as its owner, a dark grey colour with no embellishments. They sat, Lupin waiting until Snape was seated and then sitting himself closely against the other man, their thighs touching as they faced one another slightly. Lupin took only a sip of the considerably superior drink, while Snape tossed his back as though it were Black’s own quality. Lupin watched as Snape imbibed and could wait no longer. For reasons he would sort out later, he wanted this man beyond comprehension.

He fairly lunged at Snape as soon as his glass was settled on the coffee table, pressing Snape further and further back with his fervent kisses, Snape allowing the move until he was reclined lengthwise on the sofa and Lupin was above him, resting his weight on his knee that was outside Snape’s legs. Snape accepted his passions with equal force and soon the men were fighting for dominance, their kisses becoming more and more brutal and each tried to establish control. Snape tried to regain the upper hand by upsetting Lupin to be on top, but Lupin grabbed his wrists in one large hand and pulled them above Snape’s head. He held Snape’s face with the other hand and gentled his kisses, trying to show his lover that submitting was not admitting defeat.

Snape struggled against the hold, but when Lupin’s thigh pressed between his legs and against his groin, he groaned in Lupin’s mouth and stopped his struggles. His groan shot right to Lupin’s cock and he pressed himself insistently against Snape’s thigh, his hardness desperate for friction. Snape moved his hips against Lupin’s thigh and parted his legs instinctively, the man on top taking this for the invitation it was and moving to settle between Snape’s legs. When their lengths connected, even through their clothing, an electric pulse shot through both men and they began to move against each other, slowly at first, finding a rhythm, but faster and harder until their thrusts into one another became almost frantic. Snape was making little noises in his throat that he would have been appalled at, had he known, and Lupin was swallowing his sounds like he needed them to survive, their lips moving as urgently as their hips. Lupin had finally released Snape’s hands and they found purchase on Lupin’s back and buttocks and he pulled Lupin harder and harder against himself.

It was Lupin who finally pulled back, stopping that heavenly grinding and breathing heavily to regain his senses.

“Not like this, it should be done right,” he breathed, resting his forehead on Snape’s and exhaling evenly. Snape looked desperate for a moment, but once he realized Lupin was not stopping forever, he nodded in assent.

“The bedroom.”

Lupin released his captive, his cock straining against his trousers, his hair wildly disheveled. Snape looked unaffected by his attentions, his hair and clothes somehow in place. He led the way and closed the door behind them. Once in the bedroom, Snape seemed to lose his nerve and only watched as Lupin undressed. Aware of his audience, Lupin took his time, allowing Snape to become familiar with the sight of his body. His scarred and weather-beaten form was still firm, his muscles moving in the torchlight as he undressed.

Naked, he moved to Snape and began to unbutton his frock. This man is ridiculously restrained, Lupin thought as he finally removed the coat. The shirt was next and Lupin made sure to caress as he undressed. Snape allowed the attentions silently, watching Lupin intently, unsure of what exactly to do. Lupin kneeled to remove Snape’s trousers and underwear and remained on his knees in front of Snape’s straining erection. It was darker than the rest of his body and impossibly hard. Lupin rested his hands on Snape’s hips and looked up at the other man. Snape was breathing unsteadily through his mouth and was looking down at him uncertainly.

Lupin knew not to wait for an invitation and licked a flat, broad stroke up Snape’s cock. Snape gasped at the sensation and clenched his fists, knowing that to grab onto Lupin’s hair and thrust into his mouth would be a mistake, but wanting more than anything to do just that.

Lupin swirled his tongue around the head on Snape’s cock, pressing into the slit and flicking against the sensitive underside. He used his hand to stroke the shaft and meet his mouth halfway as he took more of Snape into his mouth. He other hand moved to Snape’s balls and rolled them gently in his hand. He couldn’t help but look up from his ministrations and saw the object of them throw his head back in delight, hands clenching at his sides, throat swallowing harshly. Lupin continued to lave and suction, enjoying the sensations of bringing this tightly restrained man out of control. He drew the cock ever deeper and relaxed his throat, making a swallowing motion that had the cock in his mouth hardening further and Lupin knew he was about to come. He put his fingers around the base of Snape’s shaft and tightened them to hold off his orgasm. Snape looked down at Lupin in wonder, knowing why he’d stopped and wanting more of this man.

He was ready to return the favour, despite having never done it, but Lupin pressed him onto the bed and began kissing him again, his kisses languid and soft, trying to hold off the explosion while still fuelling the flame.

Finally, Lupin reached for his wand and muttered a brief charm, his fingers slicking and his mouth pressing back onto Snape’s. He spread his lover’s legs and caressed his thighs, his buttocks, and his perineum and finally, brushed his lubricated fingers against Snape’s puckered hole. Snape seemed to freeze for a minute, but Lupin did not relent, kissing him soundly and teasing him with his own tongue, withdrawing it and making Snape venture forth into his own mouth, where Lupin sucked on the offering with reverence.

One finger slipped within gently, the tight ring of muscle loosening slightly but still not relenting. Another finger and a scissoring motion, and Snape moaned wantonly at the new sensation. When Lupin’s unerring caress within him brushed against his prostate, Snape’s hips thrust automatically and he looked at Lupin in wonder. Lupin only smiled gently and brushed against it again, causing lights to flash before Snape’s closed eyes and noises to escape his mouth unbidden.

Deeming Snape prepared and barely able to wait another moment himself, despite the lack of contact his own cock had received, Lupin positioned himself between Snape’s thighs and tilted his hips upward to receive him. Lupin kissed Snape soundly as he pressed against Snape’s entrance, Snape doing his part to relax at the intrusion. Beyond the first pierce of pain, Snape only felt deliciously full and moaned his appreciation. Lupin delved as deeply as he could and held still to allow his lover to relax, but Snape was moving insistently against him, his hands roaming over Lupin’s backside and his fingers digging in greedily.

Lupin obliged him by withdrawing and thrusting deeply, and Snape received each and every thrust with equal and opposite passion. Drawing his nails against Snape’s chest and biting at his nipples and neck, Lupin ravaged Snape’s body and marked him at his own. He reached his hand between them when he felt his own orgasm approach and closed his hand around Snape’s cock, pulling him in time to his own thrusts. Snape called out, a grunt mixed with a shout that would haunt Lupin’s dreams in the years to come, and anointed the space between them with his seed. Lupin’s thrusts were desperate now and he came with an animalistic shout, his body stiffening, barely able to hold himself up as his sperm coated Snape’s insides. He fell onto his side and rolled on his back. Snape reached for his own wand and murmured a cleansing spell before pulling the blankets over both of them.

Snape could not remember the last time someone had slept in his bed with him.

Lupin could not remember the last time he had not wanted to leave right after.

Since the night had been understandably free of conversation, Lupin turned to Snape who was breathing evenly for the first time all night, it seemed, and watching the ceiling with a closed, but pensive gaze. He raised himself on his elbow and leaned over Snape, burying his nose in the other man’s neck and inhaling deeply. He licked a trail from the joining of Snape’s neck and shoulder, to the soft spot behind his ear.

He confessed to Snape, “You taste like chains.”

Snape searched Lupin’s gaze and raised his head to kiss his lips gently, searchingly. He knew this person was real, this had been real. He had felt something and it had meant something. No one was going to get out of this war whole; alive if they were lucky, but never whole. This was not a flickering firefly that he could let die in the dawn’s breeching light. He was still, like Snape, while lights flicked around them.

“And you like freedom.”

 

The end.


End file.
